


Maps Of A Life Well-Lived

by afteriwake



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Aging, Assurances, Body Image, Body Positivity, Gen, Memories, POV First Person, POV Spock Prime, Spock Prime Observes, fond memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 10:47:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13006161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: Spock Prime contemplates the differences in aging that he sees between those he left behind and those he's befriended in the alternate universe.





	Maps Of A Life Well-Lived

**Author's Note:**

  * For [felis_blue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/felis_blue/gifts).



> I finally finally _finally_ got around to writing this fic (" _Spock Prime remembers what Kirk Prime was like when he started losing his “attractive” body and when AOS!Kirk gets older he waits for him to be the same, so he can offer the same wisdom he offered Kirk Prime to get him to accept and like the changes, but he finds he doesn’t need to because AOS!Kirk already has a ton of body positivity_ ") for **felis_blue** after almost two years, but I had the idea and no idea how to execute it until this morning, when it occurred to me that having it be in first person POV with Spock Prime's observations would be pretty cool. I hope you enjoy!

Humans change. I suppose I do, too, though not nearly as much as the humans my alternate self surrounds himself with. As someone who is only half-human, I suppose it is to be expected that any change in my body would take longer and sometimes be less noticeable. The color of my hair, the lack of firmness in certain areas of my body...they all took so much longer than they did for my own human friends.

And now I see it with the other Spock and the other Jim.

In some ways, it is a rather enlightening process. I learn new things about how the humans my alternate in this universe react to the changes, and it is similar yet dissimilar to the way my friends in my universe, their counterparts, would. Doctor McCoy did not care, in my universe; he merely bemoaned the diminishing use of his hands. He was still alive when I departed for Romulus, and I had some suspicion he might, perhaps, be too stubborn to die.

It is the eyesight of the Doctor McCoy that went first in this universe, and then a stroke. He was lucky in that there was not much damage, but it put an end to his medical career. He retired to Georgia and I have been told that many of my friend’s counterparts make long trips there. For peace and comfort, my alternate self tells me, but I suspect they want to make sure he does not feel lonely.

Loneliness is something I know well, in this universe. I visit as often as my duties allow to make sure Doctor McCoy does not feel a fraction of my loneliness.

It is Jim that surprises me the most. My Jim was not the vainest of men, but he still did not accept the changes to his body without some modicum of annoyance. It was always small, disparaging comments until I told him he had been made the way he had been made by genetics and his behaviors through the years, and a man who lived as full a life as he had lead would show the marks of it upon his body. And expanding midsection said he had good food and good drink; wrinkles on his face said he smiled often; changes in eyesight meant he had used his eyes well and often.

Jim laughed and said maybe I was right.

I was right. It is a pity I was not there in his final days to remind him how he had been a good friend, the best of friends, and I hoped I too would have a body such as his when I departed from this universe. I did not, however, intend to leave the universe the way I did, leaving those friends of mine still alive, their faces bright and shining and full of years well lived, behind.

I had fully expected, despite the differences in upbringing and lives lived, that the Jim of this universe would also need the…“pep talks,” I am told. That he would need to be reminded that a well-worn body that did not conform to Earth society’s standards of beauty and handsomeness did not mean he would not still be attractive to some. This Jim was a bit more of a lover of women of all shapes and sizes than my Jim was.

I was prepared for no particular reason, just a thought that even with the differences, their vanity would be a similarity.

I must say, it was a pleasant surprise to be mistaken.

As this universe’s Jim gained weight and lost his particularly muscular physique, he would smile more and joke that soon enough, with the gray in his beard and hair, he could be a good Santa Claus. When teased about the desire to be seen as that particular Earthman of folklore, he simply lowered his voice and said “Ho ho ho!” until those around laughed. He took great pleasure in living life, something he had not done much of until the attack on Yorktown. Something during that event had caused him to live life to the fullest and enjoy every minute and accept that nothing, not even his physique, would remain the same.

My Jim would have been pleased. He would have approved, I think.

I learn from this universe’s Jim when he makes his frequent visits to New Vulcan to visit my alternate self and his _ashayam_ Nyota. He always makes time to visit me and have a glass of Vulcan brandy and talk about the things he has seen and done since the last visit we have shared. I see the changes in his physique every time he comes to see me. His skin is a bit browner and more leathery, but never too brown to worry about. There are age spots on his skin, dotting the brownness with various shades of dark brown and black and gray. He wears spectacle more often now, and his hair is now more grey than brownish-blonde.

But he is happy. He is far happier than the young man I met in the ice caves of Delta Vega, and he says he loves looking in the mirror and remembering the things he has done, the people he has met, the places he has been. The life he lives is good, he says, and it shows, doesn’t it?

And I concur. It does. His body is a map of his travels, much like my Jim’s was. Different travels, but travels nonetheless. And they are magnificent journies, the ones both Jims have made, but this Jim takes pleasure in the changes. More pleasure than mine did.

Perhaps one day I will tell him the things I told my Jim. Not because he needs to hear it, but perhaps others do. Perhaps my alternate self will, one day. And of everyone I know related to those I left behind, this Jim would be the one to best convey those thoughts to the others.

And the universe will be better for it.


End file.
